Flying By The Seat of Our Pants

       Yesterday, I spent the day and night with framly (that’s not a typo, and you won’t find the word in Webster’s. I just made up. “Framly” means “friends who I consider family”.). Whilst waiting to be seated at dinner, the cute maitre d in the sparkly blouse caught my eye. When she leaned over to say something to me in the busy restaurant, I liked the way she smelled. So, sizing up the situation, within three minutes, I knew the following: I liked the way she looked, I liked the way she dressed, I liked the way she smelled. I looked for a ring, and didn’t see one. Roger that, Houston. We are a go.
       After dinner, as we were leaving the restaurant, I asked her if I could take her out for coffee sometime. She smiled. She blushed. She stammered. Then she started laughing nervously. I smiled at her and humorously said “You’re laughing at me? I guess I’ll take that as a ‘no’ “. She kept smiling, and blushing, and laughing, and then said something definitive and clear, like, “Well, um, ah, yeah, I mean, it’s like, well......”.
       I knew she had just started working there, so she was probably caught off guard. Her reaction certainly appeared to have a healthy dose of surprise, and it was clear that she really didn’t know how to respond. After all, she could have easily just said, “No thank you”. Maybe she wasn’t versed on the restaurant’s management policy regarding socializing with patrons. Who knows. Anyway, despite the rejection, nebulous as it may be, I left with a smile on my face. She was still smiling as well.
       Being a deep thinker, I sometimes fall into the trap of over-thinking. To balance that, I consciously cultivate my awareness to discern when it’s best for me to just fly by the seat of my pants. If I had mind fucked all the possible reasons, professional and personal, why this woman could say no; or analyzed the logistics (for example, she most likely lives at least two hours from where I do); or dwelled on the fact that I had literally just met her and we knew absolutely nothing about each other; I could have easily talked myself out of asking her for coffee. Fortunately, I immediately decided that this was not a time for analysis, or even thinking. This was a time to act from within and go with my flow. She looked good. She smelled good. I was there. So was she. Ask her out. No harm. No foul. All she can do is say no. Which she did. Sort of.
       Whenever we put ourselves out there, seek a connection with another, ask for what we want, expose something about what we think or what we feel, share even just a little bit of ourselves, we run a myriad of risks. Rejection. Uncomfortableness. Ridicule. Shame. Not being accepted. Not being received. Not being liked. Not being loved. Associated with those risks is some level of pain; and the fear of that pain is what often prevents us from taking such risks. Even little ones. And certainly big ones.
       When I’m flying by the seat of my pants, I’m not thinking about those risks. I'm not thinking about the potential pain. I’m not even thinking about the potential reward. I’m focused instead on the here and now. On what feels fun and exciting and daring and sometimes even a little nuts. In the right context, that’s all I need to do. Like riding a roller coaster, life in these moments is best served by immersing oneself in the excitement of the moment, not on reminding oneself of the statistical odds of the track severing just prior to your initial descent.
       Take a little risk today. Talk to someone you want to, just because you want to. Open up to your friend, or to a member of your framly, or to your lover, just a little more than you might usually. Spread your wings, fly by the seat of your pants, just a little more brazenly, than you did yesterday.



©2013 Clint Piatelli, MuscleHeart, and Red F Publishing. All rights reserved.

Jacking Off

I would rather be ashes than dust! 
I would rather that my spark should burn out 
    in a brilliant blaze than it should be stifled by dry-rot. 
I would rather be a superb meteor, every atom 
    of me in magnificent glow, than a sleepy and permanent planet. 
The function of man is to live, not to exist. 
I shall not waste my days trying to prolong them. 
I shall use my time. 

- Jack London

Mask

       My friend gave me this Ace Frehley ski mask for Christmas. I’ve worn it skiing. I’ve worn it sailing. I’ve worn it whilst driving my car. I've worn it walking around my neighborhood on frigid January nights. I’ve worn it in the confines of my own home. I’m sure someday I’ll wear it in bed. But that’s another story.....
       Kids wear masks all the time. But kids do it consciously. When a kid puts a mask on, it’s a physical mask, like this one, and it’s done with complete awareness. It’s a deliberate decision. Adults wear masks all the time too. But ours our usually unconscious. Ours are often done without awareness. And ours aren’t so much physical as they are metaphysical.     
       We adults wear masks to protect ourselves, to fit in, to avoid harm, to survive. Adults dawn masks without even knowing it, and eventually, may realize that the mask has become them. The question becomes “Are you wearing the mask, or is the mask wearing you?”.
       I encourage us all to spend more time without our adult masks. To show more of who we really are, to the world at large, and especially to those we are close to and care about. If we want to wear masks as adults, let’s do it the way kids do it. That is, get a real mask, a physical mask, and put it on. And then go play.
       I do. And let me tell you, it’s freakin’ fun.

©2013 Clint Piatelli, MuscleHeart, and Red F Publishing. All rights reserved.

Fuck

       Fuck.
       I love that word. For so many reasons.
       In this moment, I love it because it made me smile and inspired me to write, and I haven’t written much in a while. So I’m going with whatever moves me at a time when I’m feeling like a ton of dead weight. I’ll play with fire, because I need the light right now.
       Fuck is a powerful word. So powerful, in fact, that its overuse actually diminishes its effectiveness. Used sparingly, peppering your vocabulary with it, is much more effective than littering your speech with the word. Like a bold spice, a little on your food does a lot for the flavor, while too much and you have to spit it out.
       That said, there are cases when the purposeful overuse of the word is very effective, if just for the sake of humor. “Fuck you, you Fuckin’ Fuck” is the phrase that comes to mind.
       To some, the word is unacceptable, no matter what the context. To others, it’s okay in speech, but not in writing. Others will not write the word, but strongly infer it by throwing in an asterisk where the “u” would be, or abbreviate it by using “f’ing”. To each his, or her, own.
       The fact that the word fuck can be used as nearly any form of speech, from personal pronoun to dangling participle, is a a big part of its appeal to those of us who use the word freely. Fuck is fuckin’ versatile.
       It’s not lost on me that, in its original form, the word refers to the rather beautiful act of sex. And thus, like virtually all things in this and many other cultures that refer to sex, there is a stigma, and lots of hang ups, attached to it. For me, The word “kill” is much more repulsive than the word “fuck”, but the word “kill” is perfectly acceptable in any and all contexts. I’m not suggesting that we be as free as using the word “fuck” as we are with the word “kill”, because, as I said, fuck is better used as a spice rather than a main course. I’m just illustrating the point that the connotation or suggestion of violence is much more acceptable to us than the connotation or suggestion of sex.
       The sound of the word fuck is aggressive, because it’s one syllable, and ends with the “K” sound. That aggression is part of the word’s appeal, and part of its problem. It’s almost impossible to use the word and sound tender and soft. Even if you whisper into your lover’s ear, as you're nibbling on it, while you gently make love to her, “I fuckin’ love the way you taste, baby”, there’s going to be just a hint of aggression there. That’s not a bad thing. There are times when you want to be completely tender and gentle, and there are times when you want to be tender and gentle with just a smidgen of an edge in there. The word fuck, placed properly in the structure of your phrasing, and not emphasized, but just said matter of factly, can achieve that. Again, a versatile word.
       So here’s to a wonderful word; a word that I will continue to use and appreciate, in all its expressive glory. A word that gets a bad rap. A word that helped me, this morning, do something I love to do, but that I sometimes have trouble getting out of my own way to do. And that’s to write. And to express.
       A word that gave me life over fifty years ago, and gave me life again this morning.
       Fuck. Where would I be without you?


©2013 Cint Piatelli, MuscleHeart, and Red F Publishing. All fuckin’ rights reserved.

Menage A Trois

       Today, I am off to parts unknown. Well, that’s just an expression actually. Marblehead, Hyannis, and Nantucket, Massachusetts are all quite known. But the journey there for me is not.
       Through a chance meeting at The Red Parka Pub in N. Conway, New Hampshire, back in January, I have the opportunity to be a crew member on the boat Menage A Trois, in the upcoming Figawi Regatta.
       We set sail today from Marblehead, harbor somewhere overnight, arrive in Hyannis Friday, race on Saturday, and sail back Monday. In between life on the open seas, there will be plenty of socializing, rebel rousing, and harmless chicanery at our ports of call.
       This opportunity presented itself to me, in part, because I put myself out there. I don’t hide myself. I take risks, seek engagement with others, talk to people I don’t know, and build connections constantly. That’s part of “Living Out Loud”. For me, a big part. And it pays dividends. It’s not the way, It’s not the only way. It’s just My Way. And I believe there’s something to be gained and learned from it.
       Turning up the volume of life sometimes gets too loud for some. But if you keep an open mind, maybe you will hear something beautiful when you jack it up to eleven; just as there is something beautiful in the quiet passages of life, and in the silence. Sometimes, however, there’s nothing like cranking it up, peeling some paint off the walls, and feeling the thunder vibrate through your chest, into your heart, and back into the universe once more. Forever touched, forever moved, and never quite the same.....

©2013 Clint Piatelli, MuscleHeart, and Red F Publishing. All rights reserved.